


Every Fairytale Needs a Good Old Fashioned Villain

by TimeLordFury



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, POV Jim Moriarty, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLordFury/pseuds/TimeLordFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty, but of course you've heard of me. I've decided to write a story of all the fun games I've played with Sherlock Holmes. in other words, welcome to my world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys its going to be a short story just a small few chapters of Moriarty's perceptive up to season 3!**

I never thought I'd be writing a story, my story but something nagging at the back of my mind compelled me to do so. I'd say you'd find my story quite interesting. I've spent the majority of my life hiding from boredom but it always finds me in the end. This world is full of boring people living out their dull lives, and since you're here reading my book you're doing the same as me. Escaping from boredom. I'll admit my ideas of being entertained are different from yours. You like hanging out with friends, I like hanging people who cross me. You like shooting hoops, I like shooting politicians. Yet here we both are, I'm writing my story and you're reading it. If I'm going to tell you a story, might as well starting from the beginning, but that's so boring and predictable. No, I think I'll start from where I heard of him.

Sherlock Holmes. A perfect man for me. The yin to my yang, the consulting detective to a consulting criminal. He obviously copied the title from me, can't blame him it is very flattering. I was consulting before him, my precious network was established when I was a mere ten year old boy being forced to move to a new country. My first target, Carl Powers, that stupid boy who thought he could mock me because he won some silly swimming medals. Quite funny how I turned his talents against him. What made his name ended his life, beautiful isn't it? With just a tiny bit of clostridium botulinum, I could almost see his limbs flailing in the water and the fear in his eyes as he took his last breath. He shouldn't of laughed at me. I kept the shoes as a memory of my first murder. You always remember your first and last, maybe a few special ones in the middle. I suppose most of you dull readers have never killed before, so to put it in your context think of it as a relationship. Your first kiss. isn't it ironic that the only difference between a kiss and a kill is the letters at the end? Both require passion, skill, and you're always left wanting more. Just shows there's not much of a difference between you and I.

Well technically he was my first consulted kill. I never get my hands dirty, why do something when you could pay or force somebody else to do it. I only get involved when I feel that my target is worthy of my physical involvement. Too bad there isn't many, everyone's the same and the simple-minded Carl Powers was definitely not worth soiling my hands. Despite successfully taking care of that brainless swimmer, I felt empty. The glee of reading about his death was short-lived. It was highly successful though, those mindless police officers took it as an accident. All the papers screaming. 'Carl Powers, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament, drowned in the pool. Tragic accident." Lets just say there were many 'accidents' after that.

But then there was this boy, he just showed up to the school one day. Oh he was clever, he noticed something nobody else did. He noticed the shoes. The very shoes which were safely sitting in the back of my wardrobe. It was a thrill thinking they might catch me, the adrenalin, the excitement! That's when it struck me, I should do this more often. Make a business out of playing these little games. That boy, that curly haired boy was the inspiration I waited years for. The police brushed off his deductions and closed the case and that was the last I saw of that boy, I thought. I hadn't expected to hear of him again over a deal gone south with Jeff Hope. I knew Jeff would get caught eventually or his disease would run its course. He wasn't an important part of my network, just a minor pawn on the chess board. After all what kind of genius wastes his life being a taxi driver? He was lucky that he died that day or his entire family would suffer in front of him. My network had one very important rule that the idiotic taxi driver broke. You never say my name, I learned two very important things that day, one was to never deal with an ordinary beggar again and the other was the name of the boy who started this all off. When word got back to me about Jeff all I cared about was the words, "Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."

 


	2. Catching My Interets

I'll admit, I didn't expect to find the man so fascinating. Many times did I find myself scrolling through his blog, soaking in his little stories, excited by his similar view on this tedious life. He was like me, searching for distractions but sadly he picked the wrong side of the board. He joined the "good" guys. The side of the law. I may have left a comment or two behind on the blog. I decided to leave it as that, not get too involved with amateurs. He was a fun toy that danced around the edge of my crimes. He may have tip-toed into my work before but I doubt he would again, nobody's that clever. Instead I turned my attention to my clients awaiting me.

At this stage my network had expanded to every deep dark corner of the world's worst; terrorist cells, corrupt governments, you name it. They all come running to daddy  _begging_  for my attention, majority the requests lacking any excitement. "Dear Jim, my opponent might win the election. Please take care of him." "Dear Jim, can you please help me get rid of my cheating husband."  **Boring!**  Of course I consulted them in my gain of power and wealth but they weren't the fun and excitement I've been searching for. Then General Shan a general for the Black Lotus Tong, an ancient secret criminal organisation contacted my asking for advice to achieve passage from China to London. Easy peasy, but it seemed like something to entertain me for a while. I suggested that her little gang should come to London as a circus. Who investigates a circus really. Took a small bit of blackmailing and bribing, the usual but they arrived to London as I expected. This gang had a powerful reputation, and the success of my name and network slightly depended on theirs. I was in London at the time doing research so I watched her gang, keeping my distance of course. I don't like getting dirt of my hands. Certain crimes tend to catch my interest from time to time and this one contained a certain potential to alleviate me from boredom.

Almost as if the plan was beginning to run smoothly and my interest drained, excitement had burst through the door, wearing a trench coat and a blue scarf. My toy had rejoined the game again and he picked one hell of a game to join. Like a bloodhound, he sniffed out the clue and slowly, very slowly, began to unravel the plan. Not expecting him to get far, ordinary people don't, I let him play away. The Chinese unaware of his involvement until he managed to gain a firm grasp of the situation. Fun was over and I decided to inform the idiot that a curly-headed detective was on their case. I warned her that if she mentions me or my involvement in anyway I will terminate her and her precious gang.

With that I sat back and watched Sherlock dance. He was alike his brother in so many ways but like me in many more. His brother, Mycroft and I have crossed many times. I'm sure he's aware of my existence I'm nothing but a name to him, to most. A name that every sane man should fear. General Shan getting more worried as Sherlock drew closer. She was frantic when he arrived to the circus, it was hilarious to watch her panic on the webcam. Her eyes darted around the room in a mad fear that he may show up. That's when I really liked Sherlock, he managed to inspire the same fear in criminals that I can. I should of recorded her reaction and sent it to him. Would of been a lovely present. Oh well. She began to irritate me by asking for my advice. Can't people ever think on their own? Annoyed at her stupidity I told her to impress me, if she successfully gets rid of Sherlock, my previous consulting advice would be free of charge. I didn't need to explain what would happen if she failed. She reluctantly agreed. I lost all interest in her now, she was merely an asset, a pawn on the chessboard while my eyes were on the knight; unique, clever and like me unpredictable.

I began to believe that General Shan had a chance and the great Sherlock Holmes would fall, but I guess he can fall another day. That fool of a woman couldn't even stop a single detective and his doctor! She had cost me a great sum of money. The decay of her organisation was the tarnishing of mine. It gave me a bad name, criminals now began to think that I'm unable to consult their crimes. I ended that thought when I ended Shan. But I wasn't finshed. No now I had a new problem to deal with, Sherlock.

 


End file.
